Being A Full-Time Employee C11

Chapter 11

To be honest, I was being dramatic. I’d never asked my previous partners these things, nor cared. Conversations flowed, so you learned about each other naturally over time. But with Chae Wonu—he was different. I just couldn’t pin him down. It felt like we simply couldn’t communicate.

“Mr. Baekgyeom.”

He suddenly called me that instead of “Guide Yang.” It was an off-the-record signal.

“Are you dating Hunter Chae?”

God. Nobody here knew how to speak like a normal person!

I stormed out with nothing to show for it but burned temper. Meanwhile, the same Chae Wonu I thought had business to attend had trailed me to the corridor and was now sitting blankly, tapping his toes as if waiting for something.

“What are you doing?”
“Waiting.”
“For what?”
“For my partner.”

Hadn’t I already told him, even on the stairs, that we weren’t dating and weren’t in any such relationship? He still looked utterly uncomprehending.

“You don’t have to follow me everywhere. I’d rather you didn’t, honestly.”

My reply came sharper than intended—I was exhausted. I turned my back and walked away without another word. Footsteps followed. Goldfish turd.

“What if someone snatches you?”
“What?”
“What if someone steals my partner?”

Steal… a man standing 183 cm tall? Rounded up? Who? How? I’d like to see that sometime.

“Who the hell would bother? Everyone knows by contract I’m your partner. Stealing away someone else’s partner is illegal—you know that better than anyone. It’s punishable under military law.”
“I didn’t know that. Really? Law’s the best.”
“…”
“But hyung, you sure know a lot.”

That was the first time anyone had ever told me something like that. I’d dropped out after middle school, after all. But against Wonu, I felt like I’d never lose in terms of knowledge. Boundless confidence swelled.

But this wasn’t the conclusion I wanted.

“Anyway, no one’s taking me away.”
“Well, people have taken my stuff plenty of times.”
“Is that so? Report it, then.”

I brushed it off. Probably got something stolen as a kid. Though no one in their right mind would steal from an Awakened—their powers were too unpredictable, too volatile.

My thoughts froze and I spun back around.
“So what did you do, when things were stolen?”
“I just forgot about them.”
“Nice.”
“So now, I don’t even remember what I’ve lost. So… hyung, are we going back to the dorms now?”
“I’d rather not, but I’m dead tired, so yeah.”
“Hell yeah.”
“If I collapse on the way, don’t you dare carry me. Just call for help.”
“I’ll carry you.”

Yeah. Like you even listened to a word. Maybe we were just tuned to different frequencies.

I collapsed the instant we got to the dorm. The bed was absurdly soft, the sheets crisp and perfect. I wriggled gleefully into them, wrecking their neatness. Stress drained away; for a moment I felt peace.

I dug out my glasses, turned on the TV, and opened a book. Focusing on just one thing could be tiring after a day out, and chaos helped me relax. Slowly, I let my thoughts scatter until drowsiness tugged me down.

The book was one I’d read many times before. The TV droned banal news until it felt interesting, then annoying, then muted. Back and forth until my eyelids grew heavy.

I surrendered glibly to sleep. Sprawled across crumpled bedding, glasses still on.

Minutes or hours later, I stirred at the sound of the book thudding off my hand to the floor. Only slightly conscious, I shifted drowsily. My glasses pressed uncomfortably against my temple but I was too sunk in warmth to move.

“If only someone would take them off for me.”

A pause. Then, hastily—

“The glasses, not my clothes.”

Living with Espers for too long had left me cautious about casual thoughts. I drifted again. And then—shockingly—the glasses slid from my face.

At this point, I hadn’t grown used to Wonu’s presence. It never occurred to me that it was him. So I only felt warmth. Gratitude. By instinct, I murmured:

“Thanks, Gyeon-woo…”

“Gyeon-woo?”

Snapping awake, I squinted—then forced my eyes shut again. The room was dark. He couldn’t have seen… right?

“Why are you pretending to be asleep?”

Of course he’d seen.

“Who’s Gyeon-woo?”
“…I told you—don’t ask about my personal life.”
“Alright. Don’t tell me then.”

He relented a little too easily. Pulled out his phone, tapped at it. Not even on silent mode. And then, loud and clear, the AI spoke:

—Code 170009. Access granted. Opening Yang Baekgyeom’s file.

“What are you doing?!”

I shot upright, shouting.

“Previous partner, huh. You must have been close.”
“You realize you crossed a line, don’t you? Didn’t I make my displeasure clear? What the hell’s wrong with you? Stop acting like a kid!”
“Hyung… I’m your partner.”

He muttered miserably. Still, his phone screen shone brightly—lit up with logs of my partner history. Some were bastards, some halfway decent, and in one or two cases… good.

“There’s no law that says you can’t think about other partners, is there?”

He mumbled, eyes lowered. But even in that slumped posture, I couldn’t calm the fury boiling inside me.

“No law—but accessing people’s private files without permission? That’s a crime. Out. Out of my room.”
“If you had higher clearance, it’d be allowed.”
“Even so. Without consent? Is that your idea of partnership? If your idea of partners is like romance, then at least get half of it right.”
“…”
“I said OUT!”

The room shook with my roar. Wonu looked back and forth between me and his screen, then finally killed the display and dropped his head. Midnight flickered on the clock. We’d fought through the night.

I shoved him bodily out the door. He dragged his feet. We stood with the door between us, each shut away.

“What’s half of romance supposed to be?”

I gave no answer—just slammed the door.

“No, really. I don’t know. I’ve never dated anyone. Not once.”

So I’d called him a child. But I hadn’t expected this.

I leaned against the crack of the door and spat words like venom.
“Then go google it. Ask your parents. Anything. But shut the hell up and get o—”

Retreating beneath my quilt, I seethed. It felt like fighting with a badly trained pet. I strained my ears—half-expecting muffled sobs, tears, humiliation from behind the wall. Thankfully, there were none. No pathetic tragedy. After some time, the light under the door dimmed and finally died.

“I know I was right. He was the one out of line.” I muttered curses to myself.
“Then why does it feel like I’m the one fucked up? Why do I feel like the asshole?”

Kicking hard at the sheets, I finally swallowed down a sedative pill dry. My gut twisted at the bitter taste. Please, please—don’t let the alarm scream until noon.

As if.

It screeched at 8:30 sharp. And out we went.

More absurd still—it was a false alarm.

Dungeons were unpredictable; margin of error was expected. Still, when it happened to me personally, it was draining. Almost laughable.

So instead, we sat idly in this early morning stillness, doing nothing.

Euljiro. The smiths’ domain. An old man, late sixties, pressed a cup of yulmu tea into my hands.

“Drink, son?”
“Yes, thank you.”

I was starving. I’d only managed a quick brush of my teeth before being dragged out. I hadn’t spoken a word to Wonu yet. We hovered in a space too awkward to be partners, but tethered too close to be strangers by regulation. Within one meter, always.

“You too, student. You’re young—working too hard already.”
“Thank you.”

Wonu bowed his head. I gnawed distractedly at the rim of the paper cup. Our eyes met. He stared intently. I didn’t look away—turning away felt like losing.

“What’s with you boys?”

The shopkeeper’s wife stepped out, kettle in hand. We broke instantly, excusing with a mutter about routine. No routine about this at all.

Her open door let light spill. And inside—the same green glow we’d seen within dungeons.

Euljiro. The place of blacksmiths, smelters, all kinds of craftsmen. Items from dungeons became usable there.

The green gleam—it meant recovery items were being forged. That one simple phone call of mistaken alarm? I understood instantly now.

Recovery items were precious. Dangerous to craft. Only a handful on earth could do it. And these elders here were two of them.

Footnotes

¹ 율무차 (Yulmu-cha) – A traditional Korean tea made from roasted Job’s tears (a type of grain). Thick, nutty, and commonly served hot in winter, often associated with comfort and age-old cafés in Seoul.
² 견우 (Gyeon-woo) – A male figure from Korean folklore. The lover of 직녀 (Jik-nyeo), the “weaver girl.” They are the star-crossed couple separated by the Milky Way, allowed to meet only once a year on the 7th day of the 7th lunar month. Here, Baekgyeom mutters it unconsciously, suggesting a past partner—or someone dear—nicknamed as such.*